


High Hopes Heck Fireworks

by Goldstone_Wolf



Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [34]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Fireworks, Gen, I got it from my dad, I think this made my anxiety worse b/c they're still not done, I'm pretty sure Malark is in denial about his feeling, Mama Hashaan to the rescue, Paddy is scared of thunder going off that one vine, Panic Attacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, also fireworks suck i hate them so much, because let's be honest it's not the other version of thunder buddies, but that was due to my parents not fireworks so some stuff has changed, in intermission, it's a family thing my brothers have it too, last December during a school play (she kills monsters), literally me projecting onto paddy because I'm super nervous right now, minor uncensored language (sorry), references to Bayhollow (sort of), so its not going to be good, sort of based off a panic attack i had, the tapping is something I actually do, tws for:, written whilst the author was panicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25083934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf
Summary: Paddy thought he would be fine. He and the others were just hanging out, they weren’t expecting anything more than fireworks.His head had other plans, and he didn’t know what was happening or why.
Relationships: Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw & Hashaan (High Hopes Low Rolls), Paddock "Paddy" Whitlaw & Malark Dundragon, The Writer & Their Hatred of Fireworks
Series: High Hopes Low (Blank) [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	High Hopes Heck Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> TWs in tags. I may have missed some, I’m sort of having a panic attack right now or maybe an anxiety attack I’m not sure. Skip the next paragraph if you want to avoid me complaining about fireworks for a hot second.  
> But seriously who thought it would be a good idea to blow stuff up for a national holiday I am literally sitting on my bed trying not to have an anxiety/panic attack because I can hear what sounds like fecking gunshots going off over my head and I live on the second story of my house feck this dang holiday like oh, sure, let’s celebrate our freedom by giving a decent chunk of our veterans PTSD attacks because we are literally BLOWING STUFF UP and it stinks and it also affects people who have anxiety and autism and the like and I didn’t used to have a problem with it but I went through this terrifying simulation of what religious persecution in other countries was like when I was a freshman at a summer camp where they screamed at us and I physically collapsed and could not walk and just thinking about while hearing what certainly sounds similar enough to a blank firing off is kind of terrifying and I can’t plug in my music but I’m fine I swear I’m just going to write and get this over with.  
> Now, with all that done, let’s jump into this fic before I start hyperventilating because this is how I cope with this kind of thing.

He was fine.

He was fine he was fine he was fine he just needed to keep repeating it to himself and he’d be okay.

Except he wasn’t he was pacing in the backstreets of whatever town they were in. He couldn’t remember the name, but he had put on and removed his gloves something like thirty times and tried taking deep breaths and nothing was working nothing was working _nothing was working_. He was fine—he wasn’t fine _he definitely was not fine_ but he didn’t know _why_ it was just too _loud_ and _bright_ all of a sudden and he should have just been able to enjoy the fireworks like any other rational sentient being. But no, he was—what was he doing, anyways?

Glancing at the sky and scratching the back of his hand like he’d been doing for the past ten minutes, on and off between each time he’d removed the glove, he rubbed his neck and then the slightly reddened skin again. He couldn’t stop _moving_ and there was a lump in his throat and something was crawling under his skin he could _feel it there and he couldn’t get it out._

_You’re fine, you idiot, just take a few deep breaths and try to calm down you’re fine you’re fine you’re fine._ Running his hands up and through his hair, he pulled his gloves on again and fiddled with his cloak as he paced in another tight circle. Soon he’d wear some sort of path in the cobblestones with the rate he was going. _Stupid stupid stupid they’re going to notice you need to get back there._

_No you can’t go back what are you thinking?_ Red lights splashed across the cobblestones beneath his feet and the walls around him, coloured like blood and saturated in the way of—no, he couldn’t think of that he couldn’t think of that _he couldn’t think of that he had to get it together._

Dimly, he found himself hearing the crunch of his feet on empty roads, echoing for miles as he realised he was the only living soul there. With a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper, he ran his hands through his hair again. Tugged off his glove. Rubbed and scratched at the back of his left hand again. Drummed his fingers on his collarbone. Pulled his gloves back on and rubbed his palms together, hearing the faint friction hiding beneath the repetitive explosions in the air. There was a lump in his throat when he tried to swallow and he couldn’t breathe as well as he used to and he wasn’t sure when it had become so difficult.

Pulling his gloves off again, he kept scratching the itch absentmindedly, rolling his shoulders and trying to breathe normally.

He’d never been like this in the past. He’d never had a bad experience with fireworks. Logically, he had no reason to respond that way and they were just colours they were just bright fiery explosions they were nothing that could hurt him they couldn’t hurt him _they couldn’t hurt him so why was he scared?_

Turning on his heel, he paused in the scratching to tap his fingers against his collarbones again, drumming out a frantic beat that made no sense to anyone but him. Sometimes, he didn’t realise that he was doing it. The others had made occasional comments, but never really snapped at him for it.

Pausing, he rubbed his hands together again and paced around, breath jolting between too slow and too shallow and too fast and too deep all over the span of a few moments. Every movement felt wrong, wrong, wrong and he found himself doing the same things over and over again like some sort of pattern might help.

Glancing down, he frowned when he realised that he’d scratched deep red marks across his fingers. Without really meaning to, he dragged his nails across the curve of his other wrist where the bone was close to the skin. They couldn’t cause damage, they were too short for that, but they could still leave marks behind.

Turning again, he found himself absentmindedly rubbing his knuckles into his fingers, knowing it would probably leave them raw in the morning but feeling better at the same time.

“Paddy?” Freezing, he turned and saw Malark standing in the entrance to the alleyway that he was in. Walking closer, the assassin ducked his head and asked, “Are you okay?”

He was just a couple feet away, and Paddy found himself half-fanning his face and biting his lip. He could see everything and nothing all at once and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he was gasping how long had he been like that. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise.” He said, choking the words out, and Malark’s eyes narrowed in the concerned way they sometimes did. “I’m okay, I’m okay—”

Malark pulled him into a hug and that was when Paddy broke down with a choked sob that didn’t even make it past Malark’s chest. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, I got you.” Nodding, Paddy let out another choked cry. He wasn’t really crying, exactly, but he was gasping and he couldn’t breathe and his eyes were burning. “Okay, hold on, hold on, let’s go over here so you can sit down okay?” Nodding, Paddy allowed himself to be moved over to the wall, where he slid to the ground with Malark next to him. After a second, he realised someone else was there, and Malark said something but Paddy didn’t really see who it was. He just heard them walking away. “Hey, hey, look at me, okay? You’re doing fine. Alright?”

“I’m—I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Shaking his head, Paddy dragged his knees to his chest and ran his fingers into his hair again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I ruined the night for everyone and I—”

“Hey, no, you didn’t ruin this for anyone, okay? We’re all fine, alright?” Malark asked, and Paddy nodded after a quick moment. He heard the clanking of Hashaan’s armour as she appeared, and Malark sat back on his heels for a brief moment and glanced at her as she dropped down by Paddy.

“I’m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, everything’s fine.” Malark moved back so that Hashaan could take over, and she gently touched Paddy’s shoulder.

“Paddy, I need you to look at me.” When he did, blinking past the tears that were suddenly blurring his vision (when did he start crying he couldn’t cry he shouldn’t cry this was stupid and he shouldn’t—she shouldn’t have to worry about him he was going to—) “Is it okay if I touch you?” When he shakily nodded, swallowing, she pulled him into a tight hug that left his face squashed against her chestplate but part of him didn’t care anymore. “It will be alright, Paddy, I promise. We’re right here.”

Malark touched his shoulder, and Paddy glanced over at him for a moment before closing his eyes.

He was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I would be taking a break for a while but I physically cannot write Magic Paintbrush at the moment with how high my anxiety is and writing is how I cope so sorry this is probably a Fourth of July gift none of you wanted but I’m just going to try and make sure I don’t spiral into an attack like I sometimes do.  
> Excuse the language, but fuck fireworks.   
> Anyways, you’re loved and appreciated and awesome and amazing and I hope you’re all doing okay, and I hope that you have a nice day/evening/morning /night/etc! Thanks for reading!


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